“You’ve both been given direct orders not to talk about that operation in Texas,” Hicks admonished.
“Yes, Sir,” Carter said. “And we haven’t talked. But you have to know that Pope has political ambitions after the war. And two men who can tell the world about his cowardice under fire is something he can’t live with. Getting us killed during the extraction must seem really appealing to him.”
Hicks scowled again; running a hand nervously through his hair. “Shit.”
“Watch him like a hawk, Sir.” Carter warned.
“Shit,” Hicks repeated.
[][][]
The sounds of helicopter rotor blades filled the air in the hour just before dawn as Carter stepped down from the Pueblo assault helicopter. Sleeker and larger than the Mohawk type stealth helicopter; the Pueblo depended on speed, firepower and armor; not stealth, to carry up to eighteen troops into battle. They were dark blue in color; a blue so dark it was almost black. Close inspection revealed blue coating was imbedded with tiny metallic flecks. While this coating had no effect on radar detection, it did make it nearly impossible for any laser-based targeting system to lock on to a Pueblo and masked the heat it produced to impede infra-red targeting systems. The coating could also be made to change color from the its’ usual inky-blue, to various camouflage patterns, or the a gray color similar to a stormy sky. Also unlike the Mohawks, which carried all of their weapons in internal bays or retractable turrets to minimize their radar cross section, the Pueblos bristled with externally carried weapons.
The landing field had been cleared specifically for rehearsing the Brussels raid. Behind him the helicopters carrying the other three teams that would participate in the mission were landing. Carter watched the other helicopters touchdown and greeted each team leader as they approached him. They were accompanied by Chief Warrant Officer Alan Donner, who would be commanding the helicopter extraction force.
“That’s ten complete simulations from first shot fired to extraction and ten successes in a row,” Mason Price said, pulling of helmet and goggles. “I think we’re ready as we can be.”
“The first fifteen sims were disasters, though,” Carter responded. “And we’re getting chewed up during extraction even when we’re successful.”
“We knew that was going to happen,” Beauchamp said, stroking his camouflage paint stained beard. “The bottom line is that we are destroying the targets and some of us are getting out alive.”
Chief Donner pushed a hand through his brown hair. His slim, tall body was just beginning slouch after days of nearly constant training flights. “Even with the enemy’s command and control offline, there is still a hell of a lot of anti-aircraft in and around Brussels. Even if their gunners just spray and pray, they are going to hit some of our choppers by sheer luck,” he said. ”And we have to deal with vehicle-mobile and shoulder fired missile systems that aren’t connected to the central command system. Is it too late to allocate a four or five more gunships for defense suppression?”
“I can get you the aircraft,” Carter said. “But can you find some qualified crews and get them read in on the mission in the time we have left?”
“I know some people who can do the job,” Donner said. “I can have them start training as soon as I get choppers. I’m going to run some low level night flying and navigation drills tomorrow night, after the raid rehearsals.”
Carter thought for a moment. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll let General Hicks know to transfer the aircraft. Give me a list of the people you want. You should have them by the end of the day. Teams Charlie, Delta, Echo and Foxtrot have to embark on the subs in four days if they’re going to be in position to deploy on schedule. We’ll run more full scale rehearsals tomorrow. After that I want Team Alpha to do at least one practice HALO- SCUBA jump before we deploy. Mace, I think it would be a good idea for your team to do a couple of tree-jumps as well.”
“Right,” Price agreed.
“Let’s call it a night after we debrief from this run through,” Carter said. “I’m going to check in with Rene’ and Monica and see how there doing with the plan for assaulting the Ural complex. I’ll meet you for the debrief in thirty minutes.”
Carter drove his staff car to the other side of Fort Reagan where one of five holographic training facilities was located. The teams involved in the Brussels assault were using two of those facilities.
The five-hundred thousand square foot facilities were each adjacent large open fields that were equipped to simulate battlefield conditions; including explosions, fires and gunfire. Like the Brussels assault teams, teams Echo and Charlie had trained for their mission using the holographic facilities and then exited those buildings in order to board waiting helicopters under simulated battle conditions. Carter could hear simulated explosions as teams Charlie and Delta completed their latest simulation.
He watched as the six helicopters rose from the simulated battlefield and flew over head briefly and then landed in another field a kilometer away. He turned his car toward the second field. Stopping the car at the edge of the landing field, he waited for the helicopters to land.
Rene’ Garba and his wife emerged from a Mohawk in full battle dress; faces covered in black camouflage paint and their eyes hidden behind multi-optic goggles. His wife accounted for each of her team members, gave few orders and then approached Carter with Lieutenant Garba at her side. Both women looked somewhat weary but his wife’s face still brightened as she approached him. Garba, as always, seemed cheerful despite obvious fatigue.
“How did it go today?” Carter asked the two women.
“We’ve destroyed the target in the last twelve sims. It’s always expensive in terms of casualties, though," Monica replied, pulling her goggles up so that they rested on the top her helmet.
Garba nodded in agreement. “We’ve experienced between thirty to fifty percent casualties on each simulations. The enemy defenses built into the mountain sides surrounding the target are heavily fortified and there are too many of them.”
“Rene’s right, we take out the command bunker, but we take fire from all directions on our way out. Even after Rene’s team has taken out the anti-aircraft sights and gone to work on the other gun emplacements, the small arms and heavy machine gun fire from the pillboxes and other emplacements is thick enough to walk on. All Rene’s team can do after that is make sure our egress from the bunker stays open. All our air support can hope for is keeping the enemy’s heads down while we get on the choppers. They just don’t carry enough ammo to take out all the gun emplacements.”
Carter nodded, “It was the same with the other teams. Once we hit our targets all hell opens up and we need buckets to catch the blood. Is there anything I can get you that might help?”
The two women looked at each other. “I don’t think so. There are so many gun positions and they are so well fortified that there is no hope of suppressing them all completely,” Monica said. “An AC-190 gunship might be able to do it. But they don’t have the range or the stealth capability to get to the Northern Urals. And there aren’t enough Phantom class subs to carry more choppers for us to use.”
“I know,” Carter agreed. “The extraction package for the Brussels raiders will be coming from aircraft carriers and subs that are part of the invasion force, but your teams will have to exfiltrate on the choppers that take you in. It’s already going to be a super-bitch getting the subs to your launch points in Barents Sea and we don’t have any land basses in the region.”
“I wish there was something that we could do to lessen casualties, but there really isn’t,” Monica concluded.
Cater looked at the ground momentarily. “Yeah, the fact is, this mission is a gigantic shit sandwich and we all have to take a bite.”
Chapter Five
Two and a half hours later Carter emerged from the shower to the smell of coffee, frying ham, and eggs. He donned sweatpants and a t-shirt and followed his nose. After debriefing from the latest rehearsal, he and his wif
e had retired to their quarters and, after showering herself, Monica had begun preparing breakfast. Carter kissed her briefly as she set a generously filled plate in front of him at the small kitchen table.
“I’m going to miss all of this good food when this mission is over and we don’t have unlimited priority anymore,” he said, taking a bite of ham.
Monica tilted her head. “Maybe we won’t lose our priority. When we pull off this mission we’ll be heroes.”
“Maybe,” Carter agreed. “After this mission we’ll sure have earned a few good meals.”
Monica met Carter’s eyes. “Have you talked to Okesa yet?”
Carter took a long sip of coffee. “No; I still haven’t quite wrapped my brain around that situation.”
“What is there to wrap your head around?” Monica asked him. “I seems pretty simple to me.”
Carter shook his head. “Well it doesn’t seem simple to me. I’ve been working directly with her for over two years. I’ve known her for almost five years and I had no clue that she had a thing for me. She’s like a sister to you and, aside from the fact that I’m her commanding officer; I’ve tried to treat her like a sister. Now I’m not sure how to treat her.”
Monica pointed at Carter with her fork. “Then you better talk to her and get it sorted out,” she said.
Carter refilled his coffee mug. “We’ve been doing O.K. together during the mission rehearsals. I was hoping to deal with the situation between Okesa and me after the mission is over.”
“What if one of you doesn’t come home from the mission?” Monica asked, fixing his gaze again.
“It could happen, but I don’t like think that way,” Carter responded. “Besides, if one of us gets killed, there won’t be anything to talk about.”
Monica scowled. “That’s cold blooded,” she told him.
“It’s the truth,” Carter said flatly.
“What if I don’t come back,” Monica asked, her voice and face both softened.
Carter left the table and moved to stare out of the kitchen’s small window. “I’m not having the ‘death talk’ with you,” he said.
“We have to,” Monica said.
“Our wills and insurance policies are up to date,” Carter retorted.
Monica stood and turned Carter to face her. “To hell with legal bullshit,” she scolded. “I need to know that you’ll be alright if I die.”
Carter looked at her in disbelief and struggled not to raise his voice. “Well I wouldn’t be alright. I’d be a fucking basket case.”
She touched his face. “So would I, if I lost you. But would you be able to move on after the pain and grief?”
“I can’t answer that,” he said, touching her cheek in return. “Just thinking about it makes it hard to breathe.”
She hugged him; placing her head against his chest. “I know,” she said, fighting back tears. “But each of us would have to go on without the other.”
Carter stepped back slightly. He placed gentle hand on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “Where are you going with this?”
One tear had defied her will and steamed down her cheek. “I just want to know that you would give yourself a chance to be happy again if something were to happen to me.”
Cater wiped away the tear with a thumb. “Give myself a chance; what does that mean?”
“I know you, Doug," Monica said. “When this mission is over the teams will be all torn up; a lot of our friends will be dead. If I’m not there for you you’ll put your own feelings aside and concentrate on helping everyone else through their pain and grief and throw yourself into reorganizing the teams; even if you are grieving for me at the time. That’s just how you are.”
Carter nodded. “I’m the Senior Team Leader; seeing to my people is my job; my duty.”
Monica smiled weakly. “And you’ll do your duty even if it kills you; that’s exactly what I mean.”
“I’m still not making a connection.” Carter said, frowning.
Monica smiled slightly again. “That’s because you’re an idiot,” she said. “What I mean is that you’ll keep yourself involved trying to help other people and then try get through your own pain on nothing but will power.”
“So?” Carter asked.
Monica shook her head. “God, you really are an idiot. What I’m saying is that you can’t just get through something like that on sheer guts. You’ll have to let someone help you.”
Carter shook his head. “They shouldn’t have to take care of me; it’s not their job.”
Monica flattened her palms against his chest. “No, it’s not their job. They won’t help you because it’s their job; they’ll help because they want to; because they need to,” she told him. “People like to be needed, Doug. Most people need to be needed.”
When Carter did not speak, Monica continued. “The people in the teams are more than just a military unit. We’re a family in all the ways that really matter; especially the old timers from Red Team like us. Families come together during tragedies; everyone who survives the mission will be helping each other get through the loss of our friends. You have to let yourself be part of that. They will need your strength, but you’ll need theirs too.”
Carter remained silent. Monica went on. “General Hicks and Mary probably won’t you shut them out, but you have to let Mac, Brandon and the others in too. If you don’t, you won’t survive and you’ll be hurting them as well.”
“How did we get from the situation with Okesa to the death talk?“ Carter asked.
“I just started thinking that it was nice to know my best friend might be here for you if I was gone," Monica said softly.
Carter broke away from their embrace and moved away. “I can’t promise to start loving Okesa just because your”… he searched for words…“not here anymore.”
“I’m not saying you have to fall in love with her, I just don’t want you to shut her out. Don’t shut any of our friends out.”
Carter took her back into his arms. “I’ll try; that’s all I can promise. What about you. What if I don’t come home?”
“Trust me,” Monica said. “If you die I’ll be sobbing into every shoulder in sight. But I’d get through it and go on with life because I know that you’d want me to.
“And because you’ll have a lot of friends to help you.” Carter said.
Monica smiled. “Now you’re getting it. Maybe you’re not such an idiot.”
Carter gathered more tightly into his arms. It was some time before he let her go.
[][][]
Norfolk Virginia 07 May, 2104
The smell of damp concrete permeated the air as the FIRE teams neared the subterranean submarine pens. The four Phantom class submarines were ready for launch and waited only for teams Charlie, Delta, Echo, and Foxtrot to embark. Jeremiah Hicks looked at the vessels from the observation platform fifty feet above the docks. Teams Alpha and Bravo had accompanied the other teams to see their friends off and say their goodbyes. Some would call that a waste of time but Hicks knew it wasn’t. This would be the last time all six FIRE teams would be together with all their members were alive and whole.
Hicks watched as the teams entered the dock level and gathered near the dock’s edge; the four deploying teams loaded down with cases and rucksacks full of weapons and equipment. Hicks fought the urge to join them. He had already wished them well and said his goodbyes but those sentiments seemed inadequate. He was sending many of those extraordinary people to die.
They’re not my children, Hicks told himself as he watched as a chaplain offered farewell prayers. But his paternal feelings would not be suppressed. Carter had been like a son to him since well before his son David had died and the other team members had taken the roll of Carter’s siblings in Hick’s mind. So many people had lost blood-relatives in the war that family units often formed from what began as convenient or necessary associations. The FIRE teams, because of their small size and exclusive recruiting requirements, were a particularly good
example of this phenomenon. Hicks knew that, despite being their commanding officer, he was not one of them; he had not shared the hardships and struggle that they had endured together. He would allow the teams a last few private moments. Hicks saw Carter look up at him; clearly aware of his presence. He tuned and left the platform before emotion overcame him.
[][][]
Carter saw had seen Hicks depart as he said his fair wells to the departing teams; feeling, as always, comforted by the presence of his surrogate father. As much as he missed his own father, Carter felt a profound devotion to the general. Carter knew, without a doubt that, if he were able, Hicks would take up the rifle and join the teams on this mission.
He felt his wife take his hand and draw herself close to him. He smiled at her as the rest of the FIRE team operators formed into a semi-circle around them. He looked at each of their faces in turn, making sure to meet their eyes.
“I guess I’m supposed to give an inspiring, amazingly eloquent, speech right now,” he said. “But, the truth is, all of you are beyond that kind of bullshit and I’m about as eloquent as a chimpanzee.”
His teammates were chuckling as Carter continued. “The next time the teams gather a lot of us will be gone,” he said. “All I want to say is that the FIRE teams are the finest light infantry that has ever existed and we are going to change the course of history over the next few days. There are no words that can express how honored I am to be counted as one of you,” Carter said, turning to McNamara. “Go ahead, Mac.”
With Okesa’s help, McNamara provided each operator with a shot glass of whiskey. “OK, Boss,” he said after filling the last glass.
Carter raised his glass. “To the brave,” he said.
“Good fortune!” his teammates replied in unison.
Carter and his wife shared a prolonged hug. “Come back to me,” he whispered into her ear.
The Fate Of Nations: F.I.R.E. Team Alpha: Book One Page 14
